


One More for the Wolfpack

by Danse-or-Farkas (Markond)



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markond/pseuds/Danse-or-Farkas
Summary: A handful of small events between Scott and Oz during the last few months before the Monster Prom, and how Oz is accidentally adopted into a pack of werewolves.





	1. Lunch/Gym

 

Lunch

 

Oz could hear actual howls of laughter from even outside the lunch hall. It bounced down the hallway, cutting through the actual howls of the Wolfpack outside doing a warmup game of fetch with whoever had been unlucky enough to be chosen as the stick. It sounded like it was about to get messy out there.

 

He pushed the doors open, getting hit with a blast of heat and a smell of burning sulphur that he strongly suspected was only in part whatever was being cooked in the kitchens.

 

It was no surprise that the laughter was Scott and Polly; Scott laughing so hard tears were running down his face, and Polly clutching at her sides as her face lit up a shade of red not normally seen on spectral white.

 

With a look equal parts puzzled and amused he slipped into one of the free spaces across from them, wondering just what they were up to. If it was another of their pranks he wasn't seeing it, at least not yet. He checked the chair for whoopee-cushions and landmines before settling down properly, just in case.

 

Scotts eyes lit up as bright as the moon as a brilliant idea came to him, like a flash of inspiration as dazzling as a comet across the night sky. It soared through his mind like a leafblower, blasting away cobwebs and dry leaves that had been gathering up in the corners for far too long.

 

“Do Damien! Do Damien!” His smile was all teeth and joy, with just a little hint of infectious. Oz couldn’t help but smile along with him even if he had no idea what had tickled them.

 

He had likely gotten the idea from actually seeing Damien run past, a bottle stuffed with a oiled rag in one hand and a metal lighter in the other.

 

Polly puffed out her cheeks and squared her shoulders in a less than successful attempt to make herself look bigger and more intimidating.

 

“Grr, I'm Damien. Look at my stupid red face!” She pulled her most Damien expression, a thing of crossed eyebrows and heavy to industrial grade sneer that could only be bested by Vera on a bad day or Liam on any day in general. “I use violence to cover up the fact that I’ve been brought up to revere a toxic version of masculinity which has alienated me from my true emotions.”

 

“Ha, you sound just like him.” None of the actual words had gotten very far into Scotts head before giving up, but the tone was pitch perfect and he liked that.

 

The Coven swept from their table like a flock of predatory peacocks with a jangling of occult jewellery and silvery ritual knives, pursuing Damien into the kitchens. Whatever was going on in there was beginning to make a myriad legions chorus of distressed wails that clawed at the walls of reality and threatened the sanity and sanctity of all in vicinity.

 

“Okay, okay. You do Vera.” Polly slipped into a fit of giggles before containing herself with a deep breath.

 

Scott licked both his hands and tried to style his hair to look like snakes. It ended up looking a completely distinct variation on its usual type of messy instead.

 

“I am Vera. I'm very smart and my hair is pretty and all my friends look up to me because I am a smart independent woman.” His back was as straight as Liam was not, his chin held high.

 

“I'm not sure you understand how impression work.” Polly lowered her sunglasses to better give him a judging, critical look.

 

“I'm not Scott, i'm Vera. You can tell because I said my name just now.” Scott squared up, trying to look regal and imposing and instead appearing like he was trying to solve a very difficult crossword problem.

 

“O-kaaaay.” Polly smoothly turned to Oz, flickering from mild exasperation to warm mischief in an instant. “What about you, got any good impressions?”

 

Oz took a moment to think, wondering if it was worth the effort. The look of pure anticipation from Scott was more than enough to convince him.

 

“I got one that just might work.” He smiled at her, something a little too confident about it for his usual shy outlook. He pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the chair next to him, undid the top three buttons of his shirt and began to change.

 

It took a moment to get the details right, the flow of her hair and the shape of her nose, his edges flowing like hot tar, forming and unforming as he added and revised until he had her mirrored.

 

Oz leaned forward seductively, showing off a little too much of someone else’s cleavage through the popped top buttons, and delicately swiped a handful french fries right from Pollys plate.

 

“Look at me, I'm Polly! I can't stop doing all the drugs because the collective hangover is now so big it would kill me, again.” He was layering on the sass so thick it threatened to collapse under the weight of its own bitchiness.

 

“I don't sound like that.” Polly pouted, and stopped immediately when Oz mimicked it with a lot more lip and jutting chin.

 

Something covered in unblinking eyes that saw into infinity and made from the same stuff as the darkness between stars spilled out from the kitchen, Damien clawing it back in with a fireaxe and a frustrated shout as it writhed and tore at the ground looking for a solid hold. Nobody at the table chose to acknowledge it.

 

“Yeah you do. Like, all the time.” Scott was laughing again, the sound deep and rich and perfect in a way that most definitely wasn’t just Oz being too deeply infatuated. That was what Oz kept insisting to himself at least. There was nobody who actually believed it for a moment.

 

“First, I do not.” She raised her hand yo cut Oz off before he could speak, her look turning sultry as she eyed him up and down. “Second, I’d totally do me now that I’ve seen it from the outside.”

 

Oz choked on his stolen french fry, turned an unusually bright colour for his shadowy complexion and managed to lose control over his shapeshifting all in a short instant. He cracked at seams, smoke and shadow spilled over his edges and reforming back into his usual shape.

 

“Ooh, I have an idea, I have an idea.” Scott was practically vibrating in place, his tail making a steady 'whump' 'whump' 'whump' as it hit the back of his chair. “Do me.”

 

Polly tried not to smirk, seeing exactly what delightful thing Oz was thinking.

 

“Sure.” he almost choked on his own breath, somehow his voice not cracking.

 

It took considerably less time to turn into Scott, not that he would ever admit that he had his every look and detail burned into his memory. He had to quickly undo a few more buttons on his shirt, realising just how wide the werewolf was by comparison.

 

He had to adjust the jaw a few times, eventually getting that one overhanging razor sharp tooth that always jutted out when Scott was relaxed.

 

Scott reached across the table and grabbed Ozs face, carefully like he was holding a puppy, and turned him in several directions to get a better look at him.

 

All Oz could manage to think was that Scotts palms were really rough, and that he did not mind that in the slightest as they gently touched his (borrowed) cheek.

 

From the kitchens there was one last sorrowful sound accompanied by chanting in an elder tongue. Damien marched out a little burnt at the edges and drenched in something else’s blood, looking all the more satisfied by it. The Coven followed a moment later, still wreathed in eldritch flame as they had sealed whatever horror had been invoked into the mortal plains by the lunch staff trying to be too inventive with their choice of seasoning.

 

Scott failed to notice any of this, still intently studying Ozs mirroring of him. Even the strong odour of brimstone and nightmares coming from under the swinging kitchen doors couldn’t draw his attention away for more than a twitch of his nose.

 

He looked so pleased, examining and touching every little detail until he suddenly seemed deeply confused.

 

“Thats not the right face for this. Thats my 'want something I can't have, like the steaks defrosting in the kitchen' face.” He pulled back out of Ozs personal space, not noticing the way every spot he had touched seemed to be trembling and shimmering, thin wisps of his darkness gently reaching out for him and wrapping around his hand.

 

Oz realised just how caught out he was, almost losing his form completely before dragging it back from almost complete dissolution.

 

“You know your own faces?” Polly cut in, half as a mercy to Oz and half out of her own genuine desire to know.

 

“I practice them in the mirror, because practice makes perfect. That's what coach said. Oh no.” Scott jumped up from his chair wide eyed, sending it skittering violently across the room and crashing through someone that was luckily already a ghost. “I was supposed to be at practice. I have to go.”

 

With both hands Scott managed to shovel all of his food into his mouth, said what was probably a 'see y'all later' between the spray of breadcrumbs, swallowed without chewing, and was gone in a furry blur of movement.

 

“Bye” Oz managed weakly, a moment too late.

 

Polly just shook her head at him, glad that Scott wasn’t the most observant of guys because Oz was about as subtle as a train crash and nowhere near as fun to watch.

 

“You got it bad.” She looked through him, Oz still too stunned to move. He managed to bring his hand up to his face, his look so lost and forlorn it would have made her sick to her stomach if she still possessed one.

 

They both noticed at the same moment that Scott had also eaten the plate. Neither of them were surprised by this.

 

Damien flopped into Scotts place, let out a contented sigh and leaned back with a look of satisfaction.

 

“So, what did I miss?”

  


* * *

  


Gym

 

 

If there was one thing Oz was phenomenal at, it was Dodgeball. He knew that Liam was faster, that Scott was stronger, that Damien had a better throwing arm, and that Vera was too terrifying for anyone to dare actually target, but he had a nice mid-ground between them all that was all his own.

 

Coach declared Ozs team the winner when their opponents crafted a white flag from a hockey stick and a torn shirt, waving their defeat. He sent Ozs team to the benches and the opposition to the 'failure corner' so the next two teams could take to the gym floor.

 

Vera and her team joined him a moment later in quiet, dignified victory, followed by Miranda and her team of knightly mercenaries loudly fanfaring their victory on the field of battle. Both enemy teams were being carted off in stretchers, one set because of lance wounds the other that had all mysteriously been poisoned.

 

Scott and the Wolfpack had already finished their round some time ago, and seemed to be doing laps around the gym. What had actually happened was that Vera had strapped a ball of shiny foil to the back of someone she didn’t particularly like and told them to run, quickly, before setting the Pack on them. It amused her to see someone who had dared criticise her fashion choices chased by the threat of being torn apart by tooth and claw.

 

Miranda posed with a ball and a sword as her tapestry maker spun and wove her image for their hall of achievements.

 

There was a distinctly pained, tearing sound from behind the benches. Vera casually opened her phone and marked a name off her hit list. The Wolfpack came out from back there a moment later in a flurry of wagging tails, lolling tongues and wet viscera, and then went back to doing actual laps of the gym.

 

Scott split off from them, doing his own exercise routine that seemed to be a rapid succession of very short repetition with no break between. He got to what was likely the last exercise and froze, his usually soft, pleasant expression turned stormy and concerned.

 

Oz took it upon himself to help Scott for purely altruistic reasons and most definitely not because his needy little heart couldn’t bear to see him unhappy. On closer inspection Scott seemed to be doing something with his tongue and it was taking up a great deal of his concentration. If he had to take a wild guess he was trying to tie a cherry stem in a knot.

 

There was a moment when Oz almost considered walking away, sometimes Scott was just too hard to understand no matter how hard he wanted to. This was not one of the strikingly few times where common sense won out.

 

“What are you doing?” Somehow Oz knew the answer was not going to make it any clearer.

 

Scott made an undecipherable sound, frowned, then stopped what he was doing before speaking.

 

“Tongue squats!” He seemed so pleased with himself, and Oz was proven terribly right. “I'm on this new exercise called 'the idiot cleanse' which is only like a dollar for the first week.”

 

Oz looked at Vera rather pointedly, her response a rather icy stare that was most definitely an admission of guilt and an announcement that she did not care not regret it in the slightest. She raised a single, perfectly manicured finger just long enough to show off her nail polish which had likely cost more than Oz had seen in the last year.

 

“So hows it going so far?” Oz smiled, knowing that he would dive the depths of stupidity if it was for love. Not that he would admit that it was love if anybody asked.

 

“Awful. I just cant seem to get the tongue squats right, my form is just completely wrong. I mean look at it, its so weak and scrawny” He stuck it out, waiting for him to pass judgement on it.

 

“It looks fine to me.” He had to wonder just what Vera was on when she had that bright idea. Probably something Polly had given her, thinking on it.

 

“You're just saying that so you don't hurt my feelings. I mean you have a great tongue, so buff, not like mine.” Scotts tails sank as low as his face.

 

“You're a werewolf, isn’t your tongue supposed to be all long and floppy?”

 

Scotts brow crinkled in annoyance.

 

“Just because I’m a werewolf doesn’t mean I have to be like a dog. I have to be strong in every way if I’m going to succeed at sports.” Scott crossed his arms over his chest defensively, his expression like a puppy that had just licked a lemon for the first time.

 

“Maybe try a different exercise.” Oz was floundering now.

 

“Like what? Gimme some pointers, what should I try?”

 

Oz just opened and closed his mouth like a drowning fish (a comparison Miranda would have been horrified at), running completely out of ideas with nothing forthcoming.

 

Vera leaned forward with a knowing smile, and whispered a wicked suggestion.

 

“Tongue wrestling.” Oz parroted it instantly, realising a little too late just what he had said.

 

“Great idea, bro.” Scott grabbed him by the shoulders and locked lips with him, not a moments mercy. Oz had read in terrible romance novels how 'their tongues battled for dominance' and wondered just how that would work. Now he understood.

 

Scott had pulled them flush together, Oz gripping the back of his gym shirt so hard his knuckles were straining.

 

He was radiating heat, and he tasted like copper and salt.

 

Oz won a best three out of five once he came to his senses, but it was honestly one of the few times were the old adage 'its not the winning, its the taking part' actually had some truth to it.

 

Scott let him up for air after either too long, or not long enough depending on perspective, and grinned at him.

 

“Thanks for that bro, I’ll be opening jars with by tongue in no time. We should do this again, I really enjoyed the exercise. See ya later bro.” Scott jogged off to rejoin the Wolfpack, merging in with their latest lap.

 

Oz staggered back the few steps to the benches and sat down before his shaky legs betrayed him completely. The shadowlings were flitting about his head, chattering excitedly to themselves.

 

Vera was looking as disinterested with the world as usual, but the barest hint of a smile graced the edge of her lips.

 

“You're quite welcome for that one. And you owe me.” Her eyes were forward toward the metaphorical horizon (actually the sports teams banner in this case) but Oz could see this was about as close as Vera was publicly capable of coming to showing actual friendship. It was greatly appreciated.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Miranda beckoned to the tapestry maker, who had spun a indecently detailed handtowel sized image of their 'battle for love' to commemorate the event. It was presented carefully, Oz giving Miranda his most deadpan look to which she simply shrugged.

 

Vera had been a considerable amount more sensible and taken a video on her phone, which had already been sent to Liam and Damien. There was going to be some less than gently mockery is his future once they caught up to him. They were already setting up a groupchat with annotated screencaps, Liam was putting all of his art skills to fine use pointing out just how much Oz had thrown himself into 'training'. There was going to be a collage. He was going to hate it.

 


	2. Library/Class

Library

  
  


  
  


Oz had been searching for Valerie and her black market all day. She owed him either money or a favour, an odd turn of events given how it was usually the other way around, and it was now time to collect. And it seemed like she knew it, given how Oz was missing her by only a few minutes each time. He somewhat regretted showing her that little trick that let her move her entire shop from dark place to dark place via one of the Shadowed Places Beneath the Waking World.

  
  


His choices for getting to her were not very appealing either way.

  
  


The first option was to wait for her in the Shadowed Places, which he was not very enthusiastic about given it was filled with blood hungry mosquito swarms and shadowy jellyfish like creatures that floated through the air and fed on nightmares. He knew Valerie just kept a very big stick on hand when she was in there just for dealing with them.

  
  


The other option was to hang out in the library, which was so incredibly, irrevocable, unendingly tedious. Valerie did a lot of her business from one of the unused supply closets so it was only a matter of time before she made it there and he could ambush her.

  
  


Upon first seeing a cloud of mosquitos so large its buzzing rattled his teeth and shook the very foundations of the world he chose to wait in the library. Boredom sucked, but it sucked a whole let less than a thousand fold legions worth of mosquito like underworld creatures would.

  
  


The library was not as peaceful as he had been expecting, and his heart beat perhaps a little faster seeing Scott sitting at one of the tables. Liam was across from him, frustration pushing his blood pressure so high he might pop like a very meaty balloon at a moments notice.

  
  


“How are you not getting this?” Liam pulled at his own hair, tearing out a fairly hefty clump that crumbled to ash and dust between his fingers, the bald spot regenerating back into its artistically bound style in moments.

  
  


“I just don't.” Scott bowed his head, shoulders held low. “But I'm trying. I really am.”

  
  


“You.” Liam pointed a sharpened talon toward Oz. “You can speak mutt, help me out here.”

  
  


“First, stop being mean to Scott. Scotts a good boy.” Oz didn't fail to notice how Scott went from having his tail tucked between his legs to practically trembling with excitement. Liam had a biting comment at the ready and chose discretion, it was bad etiquette to out someone personal feelings during a verbal sparring session. “Second, tell me what's going on.”

  
  


“I forgot about the test tomorrow and I didn’t study. Well, actually I did, but it didn’t help.” His ears went down, then up, then down again.

  
  


“He ate the book.” Liam motioned fluidly toward the wolf, as if Oz would understand and sympathise with his situation and being stuck trying to fix it.

  
  


“Have you thought about playing to his strengths instead?” Oz cocked his head slightly to the side, a thought forming as brilliant as a pearl in an oyster.

  
  


“Its the 'Jumpscares' Practical, not the 'Peeing on Fire-Hydrants' oral test, or 'Drooling Over my Favourite Shirt' written exam.” The last one had a very biting edge to it, Liam pursing his lips and taking letting out a derisive snort.

  
  


“Not what I had in mind.” Oz felt the ripple in the space between one moment and the next. The lights flickered, and there was a sound just on the edge of hearing that made Scotts ear twitch. She had arrived right when he had expected. “I'll be back in a moment.”

  
  


Oz strolled up to the supply closet and knocked on it twice with his knuckle. There was some muffled swearing from the other side. He opened it anyway, catching Valerie with her leg already in the gap between dimensions. She pulled it out with a yelp as it snapped shut, the harsh light of the library sealing it closed. She could only pass from dark to dark, so long as he held the door open she was effectively trapped.

  
  


She straightened up, put on a charming smile and made a wide, sweeping gesture toward her spread of wares.

  
  


“So what can I getcha' today?” She knew full well she had been caught, the game of Cat and Mouse was over. The irony of her being a cat and getting caught was not lost.

  
  


“You know what I want.” Oz leaned against the doorframe.

  
  


“I'm not in the business of giving away freebies.” She clicked her tongue in irritation, taking a wrapped item from a shelf and handing it over like an admission of defeat. “I know you're giving it to Oberlin. Can I just say that’s a terrible idea and I would not do it if I were you.”

  
  


“I trust Vera.” Trust was perhaps stretching the truth by a mile. Several miles. Perhaps a small country.

  
  


“Well, Its not my problem anymore. No refunds when it backfires spectacularly.” Valerie shrugged heavily, relaxing again.

  
  


“Wouldn’t expect anything different from you.” Oz shot her a smile, hoping the air was now clear between them.

  
  


“Anything else while you're here?”

  
  


“Just this.” Oz grabbed a box of meat flavoured snacks and handed her a pocket full of change. She counted every coin carefully, satisfied he had paid in full before gently shoving him out of her closet and closing the door. A moment later the world rippled again at the edges and she was gone.

  
  


Liam just raised an eyebrow at him when he sat back down. Whatever he had bargained for on Veras behalf had a sharp, offensive smell, faintly noticeable even through several layers of wrapping. He could sense that Scott didn’t smell it oddly enough, which only raised his suspicions what it was. He really hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

  
  


Scott had at no point taken his eyes off the box of meat snacks. He was licking his lips so much they were now very shiny.

  
  


“Scott will do anything for a treat. That’s how Coach manages to keep their attention.” Oz had been to quite a few of Scotts games, it had become a habit for Scott to wave up to him in the stands every time he scored. Scott had also given him a season pass, or his attempt at one at least. He had just scrawled a note that said Oz was allowed into all of his games and apparently that was enough for the ticket checkers.

  
  


Coach had even offered Oz a place on the cheer-leading team; apparently Scott played measurably better having his 'friend' there to support him. Coach had said 'friend' with a lot of eyebrow wiggling and insinuation. Oz had blankly refused the offer after that.

  
  


“Anything?” Liam lounged back in his chair with a knowing smirk. Oz shot him a very dark look in return.

  
  


“Why don't we start at the beginning. Proper mise-en-scene, ramping up the atmosphere and tension before you strike.” The attempt to swiftly change the subject was about as smooth as sandpaper. “Scott, how do you set up the scare?”

  
  


Scott thought long and hard, the look of desire he was giving the snack so intense it almost made Oz a little envious.

  
  


“You let them know you're near without being seen directly. Make them feel hunted.” Scott was leaning forward now, and had not blinked in several seconds.

  
  


“He's right?” Liam had his own copy of the reading open, scanning along with them.

  
  


“And how would you go about doing that as werewolf?”

  
  


“Howl, then knock something over nearby, then again closer. Let them see me for just a moment out of the corner of their eye when they start to panic.”

  
  


Oz slid the treat across the table, Scott scrambling to grab it so hard he left claw marks in the wood.

  
  


“How do you establish threat?”

  
  


“Get right up to their hiding place and sniff at it, leave big scratches right where they can see them when they think you're gone.” He answered with his mouth still full, spraying crumbs in a wide arc across the table. Liam raised his book as a shield, Oz slid back slightly in his chair.

  
  


“When do you jump out?”

  
  


“Right when they think they're safe. Make them think they've escaped you by making noise further away.”

  
  


Oz tossed the snack toward him, Scott snapping it out of the air with his teeth and a solid crunch.

  
  


“What’s the passing grade for the test?” Oz looked to Liam.

  
  


“Eighty percent. You're scored out of twenty on five categories.” Liam checked his own notes, his own notebook black and bound in expensive Italian leather.

  
  


“Scott, I believe in you. If you can get eighty-five percent on that test I’ll give you the rest of these snacks.” Oz was looking right into Scotts eyes, getting more than a little lost.

  
  


“I promise I’ll give two hundred percent, I won't let you down.” Scott was bright eyed and full of energy and anticipation, grinning like an idiot at Oz.

  
  


Oz throat went alarmingly dry as Scotts grin softened at the edges, both caught up just looking at each other.

  
  


Oz let the box of snacks fall from his fingers, hitting the floor with enough of a sound that the bubble of unresolved feelings popped. They both looked away, Oz making an excuse to leave in a hurry and Scott grabbing the nearest book and throwing himself into what would have been a perfectly convincing act of studying if he was reading it the right way up.

  
  


Liam had his head in his hands, cursing the pair of them and their blindness. Their signals could not be any bolder or brighter without outshining the accursed sun.

  
  


Scotts lip quivered faintly as he left, Liam patting him on the shoulder with a rather unenthusiastic 'there, there' and cursing all of his luck.

  
  


It was the next afternoon when Scott came bounding up to Oz in the hallway, freshly scored test rolled up and held in his mouth like it was the morning newspaper.

  
  


He dropped it at his feet and rolled onto his back right in the middle of the hall. Oz had to stoop low to grab it, missing the brief hurt look he got when he didn’t stop to give Scott a belly rub. He had been very tempted, but chose not to thinking it was perhaps a little inappropriate.

  
  


The score was exactly 85%, Scott looking up at him with beaming pride and more than a little anticipation. Oz unzipped his backpack and dropped the whole box right onto Scotts chest, offering him a hand up and nearly losing an arm to his strength in the process.

  
  


Scott tore the top of the box clean off, and was about to pour the whole contents into his mouth when he paused. He took one out and held it out cautiously to Oz.

  
  


“Do you want one? I mean, you deserve it. You helped me. You believed in me.” Scott looked so torn up about the choice. He wanted the snack so badly, but he wanted Oz to have the snack too.

  
  


“They're yours, you earned them.” Oz just grinned, a swell of pride in his chest. He also took a half step back, knowing what Scotts eating habits were like for collateral damage.

  
  


“You sure?” Scott wasn’t certain whether to look at the snacks or Oz, barely holding himself back. He was worried they would all vanish the moment he looked away.

  
  


“I'm sure.” Oz had barely said it with a quick nod when Scott shovelled them all into his mouth.

  
  


“You're the best.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


(after) Class

  
  


The Wolfpack were terrifying when they chose to be. This was very much one of those times, at least it was about to be.

  
  


Oz was in his locker putting his books from class away when a weighty blur of football armour, spray deodorant so thick it could form a cloud bank, and doggy saliva barrelled into him and caught him by the scruff of his collar, dragging him outside toward the spooky tree through the nearest open window.

  
  


Vera let out a brief sigh of irritation at Oz. It was very rude to be abducted mid conversation, especially conversation relating to financial plans. She had a quick search of his locker before slamming it shut, now even more annoyed that he didn’t even have the common decency to have something worth stealing.

  
  


Outside Oz was dropped in the centre of a sitting circle, every one of Scotts multitude of cousins and packmates assembled and waiting for him. The few who had volunteered to 'persuade' Oz to meet with them padded to their space and sat, a very intense look on their faces.

  
  


“Erm. Hi.” Oz swallowed heavily.

  
  


“We know you know why we brought you here.” The one that Oz was pretty certain was the football team captain seemed to have been chosen to speak. He wasn’t certain if werewolves actually had alphas, but if they did this would be the alpha.

  
  


“You do?”

  
  


“Yeah, we do.” He was showing a lot of teeth.

  
  


“And what is it you know that I know you brought me here for?”

  
  


“Don't try to use your mind tricks on us, we want to know what you've done to Scott.” The whole pack leaned forward threateningly, the circle suddenly feeling like it could turn sharp and bitey at a moments order.

  
  


“I didn’t do anything to Scott.”

  
  


“Bullshit. He isn’t himself anymore and we know its you, we can smell him on you and you on him. He just sighs and spaces out now, not even sports can snap him out of it.”

  
  


“I didn’t do anything to Scott. He's my...” The word caught for just just a little too long “...He's my friend.”

  
  


“You paused.” The Alpha looked suddenly impressed with his own observation and interrogation methods.

  
  


“Did not.” Oz tried very hard not to turn an interesting colour.

  
  


“Did too.”

  
  


“Did not.” Oz failed at trying not to turn an interesting colour.

  
  


“Shut up and tell me what spell you put on him!”

  
  


“What spell? I don't know magic.”

  
  


“A-ha.” The Alpha seemed incensed, like he had just caught Oz out in a lie. “Nice try, we bribed The Coven for help. It cost us a set of shiny keys and three good bones. You caught him in an 'in-fatch-too-way-shon' which is definitely the name of some magic ritual. The only way to break it is with 'true loves first kiss' and we know that won't work because Scott only loves sports and the moon, and you can't kiss either of them. Believe me, we've all tried. You have to uncast the spell.”

  
  


The Coven had understood the situation perfectly, what they lacked was the patience or the crayons required to explain what was going on to the Wolfpack. They had at least given it a try, and given up less than half way in to go deal with something, anything, more important.

  
  


“But I didn't do anything.” Oz noticed Damien strolling along nearby and tried really hard to draw his attention without being noticed. Damien did notice, took one look at the situation and decided it was most certainly not his problem. He was presently heading into the forest to bury something that most certainly could no longer be identified by finger prints or dental records.

  
  


“Then why is Scott like this?” The Alpha scratched at his stubbly chin a few times, not once breaking eye contact.

  
  


“Have you thought of asking him what’s wrong?”

  
  


“We're Bros. Bros don’t talk about feelings unless we're asked to, and we don’t ask because we're Bros. We fix things for each other without asking, or thinking about unintended consequences of our reckless actions.” The Alpha beat his chest, puffing up with Bro pride. “And you've hurt him somehow so now we've got to fix it by fixing you.”

  
  


“I wouldn’t hurt him.”

  
  


“Why not?” There was a snarl rising in the other wolves, rumbling so hard he could feel it trembling through the ground.

  
  


“I have feelings for him.”

  
  


“What’s friendship got to do with this?”

  
  


“No, actual feelings.”

  
  


“Yeah?” They were not understanding. This was about the point the Coven had given up, but Oz did not have the luxury of summoning something from the Planes of Lost Tennis Balls and casting it away with a 'fetch'.

  
  


“I love him.” Oz said it so quietly he thought they maybe maybe had missed it. They did not.

  
  


There was a suddenly very weighty silence. Crickets would have chirped if there hadn’t recently been a very thorough carpet bombing campaign against them after they had devoured the field of vegetables the Home Economics classes had been working on. Everyone had failed that class because there was nothing left to turn in other than a declaration of surrender from the Insect Nation that had been unanimously rejected.

  
  


“Oh. Those feelings.” There was a muttering from the circle, too low for him to hear without doggy hearing. “That still doesn’t explain Scott. He can't have feelings for you.”

  
  


“Why not?” Oz got oddly snappy at that, heat pooling in his chest, momentarily forgetting he was very much in mortal danger. He didn’t even know if Scott felt anything for him at all, he'd certainly never indicated anything of the sort in the abnormally vast amount of time they had been spending together. As friends. Nothing more.

  
  


“Werewolves look for strong mates, usually other werewolves. You're not a werewolf, and you've never been a werewolf, so Scott can't like you.” The Alpha seemed to believe his logic was perfect and sound despite it having more holes than the sort of expensive cheese Miranda was fond of.

  
  


“Yeah he was.” One of the pack piped up, raising a hand in the air excitedly.

  
  


“What? When?”

  
  


“The cafeteria a few weeks ago. He turned into Scott, and Scotts a werewolf, so he's a werewolf. Right?” The handful of working braincells between all them went into overtime on that problem.

  
  


“Maybe.” The Alpha turned back to Oz and leaned in squinting, as if trying to scrutinise just where the wolf part was hiding. “Were you a werewolf?”

  
  


“Erm. Yes, I was. For about a minute.” Oz pulled up a few elements of the shape into his form to demonstrate, a slight point forming on his ears and a tail sprouting out that seemed determined to sway back and forth without his control.

  
  


Oz felt the collective tension in the air shift, all of them sitting up bolt straight as if someone had just said 'walkies' in their vicinity. The whole pack surged, knocking Oz over backwards. He was sure then that they were going to tear him into a thousand tiny chunks, and was mildly surprised when instead they circled and crowded him, sniffing and prodding at him. Oz found himself getting lost under a pile of suddenly very excited werewolves that all wanted a chance to introduce their new packmate into the fold.

  
  


“One of us, one of us.” They were chanting, the sound muffled under the werewolf pile.

  
  


“Sorry Bro, we didn't know. We're all really protective of our Bro, but if you're one of us its all fine. We know now you wouldn’t hurt him.” The Alpha reached into the pile and somehow managed to rescue Oz, still dazed and wondering why he wasn't the less than fun variety of dead.

  
  


“Its fine?” Oz was not sure what to do, holding as still as possible.

  
  


“So you want Scott to be your mate, right?” The Alpha seemed pleased now, all threat gone from him.

  
  


“I wouldn’t say quite that far. Maybe. Yes. I don't know.” Oz felt his stomach drop out at the widening grin and scheming look he was being given.

  
  


“We can help you with that part. Wolfpack, assemble!”

  
  


There was a scramble too fast for Oz to resist. Again the werewolves picked him up by the collar of his shirt, soaking it in saliva for a second time, and went tearing through the school carrying him in their teeth. They managed to destructively charge through bandpractice, an art class, one minor ritual of cleansing and at one point made a detour through the Princes dimension doing untold damage to his kingdom as he stood aside and shrieked in impotent horror and clutching a single rose to his chest.

  
  


Oz was dropped unceremoniously at Scotts feet somewhere near the library, a little windswept and damp but mostly intact, the Alpha saying 'wink' before leaving them alone.

  
  


“I was about to come find you when I lost your scent trail in the hall. I got worried, but its all fine now that I’ve found you. Nice tail.” Scott crouched down on his haunches, his face all warmth and toothy smiles as he offered him a hand up.

  
  


There entire Wolfpack were unsuccessfully hiding nearby, all of them scrambling to lean around the corner and see. It ended up being wolf atop wolf atop wolf, the lowest levels barely holding the combined weight. They were all giving him encouraging thumbs up.

  
  


“I need to talk to you about something. Something Important.”

  
  


“Sure. Is it something good? Is it a surprise? I love surprises that aren’t fireworks.” Scotts lower lip jutted out at the thought of fireworks.

  
  


“Nevermind. Later.” Oz felt the disappointed stare of too many werewolves burning into the back of his skull. “You want to go get ice cream?”

  
  


“I love getting ice cream with you.” His tail starting swishing to and fro so fast it turned into a fuzzy blur. Oz felt his own join in without any prompting, almost willing it away when he couldn’t get it to stop. The main reasons he didn’t was that Scott had complimented it, the other slightly more concerning reason was that he didn’t entirely know how the Wolfpack would react if he suddenly unbecame a werewolf. Badly, he imagined.

  
  


There was a heavy sound from nearby, like a pyramid of werewolves collapsing in on itself with pained barks and muffled swearing.

  
  


Scott was too pleased at getting ice cream to notice. He had much happier things on his mind.

  
  


 


	3. Outside

  
  


  
  


  
  


Outside

  
  


Damien had always thought of Oz as being reliable, predictable, well rounded and careful to act. In a shorter word: boring. He would have put good money against Oz being impulsive for any reason, especially jealousy driven impulsiveness.

  
  


It was The Prince that had started the whole situation, and unearthed something sharp and terrifying doing so.

  
  


After his kingdom had suffered the 'ravages of a pack of moon born lycan beasts' using it as a shortcut, another disaster had reared its less than ugly head. Some ancient nameless entity had been unleashed into his realm coincidentally only moments after he had tried to seduce The Coven back to his boudoir for some cheap wine and a menage-a-quatre. It had been running rampant for days now, assailing his palace and loudly making demands that the Prince learn what the word consent meant.

  
  


His solution was to fight horror with horror to avoid his much deserved punishment.

  
  


Scott was lying on his back, half talking with Damien and half watching the sky, naming the shapes he saw in the clouds. Thus far there had been a lot of sheep. Occasionally he would nudge Ozs knee with the side of his head, begging with a high pitched whine for whatever it was Oz was eating. Oz had yet to say no, dropping it right into his waiting maw before ruffling his hair affectionately.

  
  


Oz and Damien were sat either side of him, Damien quite happily using Scott as a makeshift table for his soda. There was a rather ferocious Pokeman battle going on between Damiens boldness based crime team and Ozs charm based lawyers, both sides playing dirty.

  
  


The air trembled, all of the considerable amount of hair on Scotts body standing on end like there was a thunderstorm on the way.

  
  


The world parted, a flaming tear in the fabric of the universe split wide as the Prince strutted up to Scott as bold as a pigeon wearing peacock feathers, and dropped to one knee.

  
  


“Moonbeast, I entreat you.” The Prince held a sword aloft as an offering, layering on the charm so thick it could be cut with a knife. “My realm is imperilled, and only you, a moon born beast can save it. I need a champion and a lover who can conquer these woes, will you stand with me against this horror?”

  
  


Scott only heard the word 'entreat' and thought it meant he was getting a treat. He went from lying down to upright with a single springy movement, throwing Damiens drink up into the air doing so. It was lucky he had catching things drilled into his skull, grabbing it without either thinking about it or spilling a drop. It was a useful habit for sports, and considerably less useful on the beach when he had automatically snatched a seagull out of the air and stood with it screaming and squawking at him while everyone else ran to protect their icecream.

  
  


Oz rose from the ground without breaking fierce eye contact as the Prince placed the sword in Scotts hands, his touch far too lingering and far too familiar. The shadowlings jabbered and chattered, needle like teeth splitting their tiny faces. Oz was too still, until like a river bursting its banks all of the jealous rage came flooding out.

  
  


What Damien witnessed with his own two eyes was something he would later describe as 'terrifying' and 'the slightest bit arousing in the 'danger is sexy' kind of way.' Not that he had any interest in Oz, his sights were firmly set elsewhere, and Scott had done everything to mark him as his territory short of either peeing on him or actually asking him out.

  
  


Oz had moved like a hungry beast, taken the sword himself and pointed it straight toward the Princes throat. His edges were blurry and indistinct, prickles and barbs rippling across his surface.

  
  


Even if it was only there part of the time Oz most definitely had a mouth, one now gaping wide and lined with rows upon rows of bared blades. Scott made a soft sound of concern, gently laying a hand upon his shoulder. The concern was so bright in his eyes that Oz briefly melted back into something like his true form long enough to smile in a way that made it clear he was okay.

  
  


He turned back to the Prince with clear intent to do harm, his form beastly again, and beckoned toward the burning portal.

  
  


“We will deal with this. You will stay here.” There was no room for argument, the Prince nodding just enough that the tip of the blade against his throat didn’t shave a layer or three of skin away.

  
  


He hadn’t realised what he had done until much later but he grabbed Scotts hands and dragged him through the portal, intending to solve the problem themselves so the Prince could leave and never return.

  
  


Scott was more than pleased to be lead, especially by Oz, and especially into an adventure. Adventures were just like walks in the park or long car rides sticking his head out of the window, only with more loot and less screaming when he ate other peoples pets.

  
  


They had left Damien behind; in the middle of a battle with Oz and in the middle of a conversation with Scott about levelling the tax stat of their Pokeman, to go off on an adventure in another reality. What was worse is they had left the Prince behind.

  
  


The Prince had wasted no time sidling up to him, and he was already making insinuations about 'politically advantageous exchanges of fluids' because he was royalty of the 8th sphere of Hell. Damien was already contemplating finding out if his insides were as sparkly as the outsides. He really hoped they were.

  
  


The portal choked and sputtered, its creation about as competent as anything done by the Prince. It lashed and strained, dropping Oz and Scott somewhere other than the intended destination.

  
  


There was too many moons in the sky, the stars each so bright and shining that Oz had to wonder if he had ingested something from Pollys bag of delights.

  
  


Scott made a drawn out sound, half contented and half growling as his form shifted slightly between human and wolf and back like the ebb and flow of the tide. No one of the moons was full, but combined they were worth about three full moons with a waning gibbous of spare change left over. With a sharp exhale he brought himself under control, having grabbed onto Ozs arm to steady himself.

  
  


Their arrival had not gone unnoticed.

  
  


On one side of the square they had landed in was a crowd holding signs in some alien language. On the other was a small handful of the royal guard manning a checkpoint.

  
  


Their arrival broke the mounting tension between the groups. The Prince had informed almost nobody, other than one of his many orchestras, about his plan and the expected arrivals.

  
  


What had not been accounted for in the slightest would be the Royal Guard being on high alert. The Princes exploits had started yet another rebellion against his rule, and after the recent werewolf invasion it had been threatening to spill over into full blown revolution.

  
  


Without the Prince to actually explain the situation the guard assumed that it was another invasion and drew swords to defend their kingdom.

  
  


Scott had immediately jumped to Oz defence, Oz sidestepping his attempt and raising the sword.

  
  


Oz had been recruited less than willingly into Vera and Mirandas fencing lessons far too many times. If he could keep all of his fingers duelling against Vera then knew his way around a blade more than adequately. The Royal Guard could not boast the same, their post being mostly a ceremonial one.

  
  


The rebellion had spotted an opportunity, with a battlecry they charged into the fight having assumed that the two outsiders were there to help them overthrow the monarchy.

  
  


Scott was in his element as they were swept along. He had a crowd cheering him on, a victory to be won, glory to be had and Oz at his side to share it all with. Oz for once was not paying unceasing attention to Scott and completely missed the way Scott was looking at him.

  
  


The palace came into view over the city, a gaudy thing of gold and glass jutting up into the clouds. It was overdecorated, overdesigned, overexpensive and very much to the tastes of the Prince.

  
  


The thing assailing the palace circled about it with massive beats of its wings, battering against whatever magical ward was barely holding it back. At full stretch it was the width of the sky, made of wings and wheels within wheels of flaming eyes. All kinds of wings were in there, there was bat, dove, pigeon, flamingo, parrot and a few that were probably wasp.

  
  


Oz realised just what he had volunteered himself for, reality crashing in so hard his form reverted back to normal. Scott just saw the flaming wheels and some part of his brain associated them with the baskets in basketball, the familiar desire to win taking up any space in his head that might have been free for fear to take.

  
  


The rebellion didn’t once falter in their resolve, foolhardiness apparently a trait the Princes race had in excess.

  
  


Scott seemed incredibly pleased with himself when he found himself a royal guard helmet that was very shiny and took it for himself. The original owner did not complain much, but if he could complain it would probably be about the fact that their body was now several paces away in several different directions.

  
  


He was worried at first that the shininess meant it was silver, but a cursory lick proved he wasn’t allergic to it. The Prince was actually quite cheap with his uniforms; why waste money on unimportant things like infrastructure and security when that money could instead be put to good use seducing high school students from other realities?

  
  


As they drew closer to the palace Oz noticed that the sword seemed to chill to the touch, vibrating faintly as if it knew what it had been forged for. The Prince had at least not been cheap having a magical weapon made to slay the creature.

  
  


By the time they had made it to the main boulevard Scott had scavenged a considerable amount of armour, and was looking all the part of dashing hero. There was already bards composing songs to his glory, artists taking first sketches so that they might paint frescoes of their new saviour. Oz had always quietly loved that quality of his, that magnetism and honest charisma that brought everyone he met onto his side. Oz had seen first hand how easily Scott could draw followers, there was a cult in the forest that practically worshipped him with art and pornographic fanfiction. It was a small wonder Vera had never tried to weaponise that magnetism for her own nefarious purposes.

  
  


The march, with Oz and Scott now at the front, reached the palace to find that the royal guard had barricaded themselves in. They were terrified of the mob now threatening revolution marching upon their doorstep.

  
  


What they had not expected was that Scott could dig through anything. It had taken little more than getting the rebellion to chant his name, Scott tearing through piled furniture and priceless art in a flurry of claws and tail wagging.

  
  


The guard broke in terror as Scott let the excitement get a little too out of hand, transforming completely and running amock through their ranks, made all the better (or worse depending entirely on perspective) by all the noise and excitement.

  
  


It was quite some time before he lost interest, coming back to his senses gnawing on some poor souls lost leg. Oz completely missed his return to mostly human shape, Scott standing in the throne room naked and blood soaked, panting and feeling very good about himself.

  
  


Oz had instead been single mindedly focussed on the task ahead, climbing the palaces many, many, many staircases trying to find his way to the tallest part. Scott caught up to him at a brisk sprint once he had found his clothing and armour, especially his new favourite helmet.

  
  


It was on the balcony of the highest tower that they confronted the titan. The Princes finest orchestra were waiting for them, an arrangement of dramatic confrontation music readily prepared. The Prince had specifically requested their presence for the fight. Oz was not in the mood to indulge any of the Princes stupid desires and had simply ushered them away. Scott had waved to them as they left, apologising to them and offering them the chance to come play at the next football game if they wanted to. About a week later Scott won a game to the sounds of 'Glory to the Wolf and the Shadow' playing from the stands, much to the confusion of the rest of the school.

  
  


Oz was in the middle of working out a battle plan against a creature so massive that they were fleas by comparison when Scott put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle so loud it rattled windows for miles around.

  
  


The creatures turned its myriad eyes down toward the speck of a werewolf.

  
  


Oz immediately raised the sword, putting himself between Scott and the creature. The sword was glowing now in vivid white light, threatening to slip his fingers as if drawn to its destiny. Scott just laid his hand against Ozs arm, lowering the sword and taking a step forward.

  
  


“I got this.” Scott seemed so confident, his grin so serene that Oz couldn't refuse him. “Trust me?”

  
  


“I trust you.” Oz said it quietly as he looked at the floor, missing the way Scotts eyes brightened and his smile grew so wide.

  
  


“Excuse me.” Scott was waving both of his arms and jumping to draw attention. “Can you please stop attacking this world and all of the people, they don't like it.”

  
  


“ **I am here for the Prince. His many wrongs must be brought into the light and the flame**.” It rumbled, its myriad bejewelled wheels twitching in irritation.

  
  


“Yeah, he's not here. He came to our school and asked us if we could ask you to leave. I did say please.”

  
  


“ **He's not here?** ” There was a moment of stillness from the celestial being, its many eyes squinting as if in deep thought. “ **I am so sorry. Now I just feel silly.** ”

  
  


“Its okay, I feel like that a lot. The secret is to not be afraid to admit when you're wrong.” Scott just shrugged, his presence so perfectly reassuring that even Oz felt it.

  
  


“ **I suppose** **I** **should at least introduce myself**...” Now that it was no longer on the war path the being politely introduced herself with a name that sounded like a thousand heavenly choruses whispering praises to the light.

  
  


“That's a lovely name.” Scott was bleeding from one ear, something like divine revelation had found its way into his head only to be buried and smothered under a mountain of sports trivia. In a year yet to come he would awaken one night in a cold sweat to transcribe a tablet filled with unknowable things, and then the next morning bolt a set of legs to it so they could use it as a coffee table.

  
  


“ **Thank you. I should be leaving I suppose, and again I am so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused**.” She broke apart into a million tiny shards, each leaving reality through a pinprick hole in the skin of the world, each one a shower of rainbow lights and harp chords.

  
  


The sky was alight at her exit, the colours dancing and bursting like fireworks. The first flash made Scott shudder before he realised they were not fireworks. It was the first time Scott could fully enjoy them, the urge to run and hide not taking him without the 'bang' that made his heart tremble.

  
  


Oz also felt something between awe and confusion. Awe at Scott, and confusion at how in the name of the myriad circles of Hell he had done it. Scott had just politely asked a being so old it could remember the birth of the stars to leave peacefully and it had.

  
  


He took the sword and dropped it over the edge of the balcony like a penny into a wishing well. It was now the problem of whoever was down below. It was only later he realised he could have sold it to the Coven, they would have loved a slightly useless magic sword.

  
  


Some part of him that should have long fled was still wondering just what had happened, the reality of the situation simply refusing to set in. It dawned on him that this was how Scott viewed a lot of their antics.

  
  


Scott was looking up at the display, mouth agape and eyes wide. He seemed so still but for his eyes, darting across the sky at every pretty shape and colour, completely mesmerised.

  
  


Oz found himself watching how lovely the soft lines of Scotts face were when he was enraptured, eyes sparkling and bright. That was the moment when he realised that Damien was right. And Vera. And Poly. And Liam. And Miranda. They were all right.

  
  


It struck him just how angry Miranda was going to be. She was going to find out that they had accidentally empowered a peasant revolt against the monarchy, and she as not exactly the number one fan of any of those things. The last time he had offended her sensibilities he had spent the month dodging crossbow bolts from assassins, luckily they had only been ordered to aim for his ankles but it had still been an ordeal.

  
  


“We won. We're the heroes.” Scott picked up Oz, breaking him from his thoughts of how he was going to have to check his locker for dart traps, and spun him around three times while hugging him close to his chest so tight it squeezed the air from his lungs.

  
  


“You won, this was all you.” Oz gasped for air, taking a deep breath when Scott finally put him down.

  
  


“No. We did this together, me and you.”

  
  


Oz though for a moment he saw something in the look Scott was giving him, an invitation perhaps. He let impulse rule over reason and leaned upwards, hoping to plant a single, soft kiss on Scotts lips.

  
  


The grand doors to the balcony slammed open. Scott snapped his head toward the noise, Oz flinching back before his lips could make contact and immediately regretting the entire attempt.

  
  


The rest of the rebellion they had accidentally accumulated finally caught up with them with a chorus of cheers announcing their arrival. Scott was instantly amongst the crowd, hoping for a lot of high fives and instead having to teach them what a high five was.

  
  


Scott eventually got free from his adoring crowd as they rushed away to start planning how their new empire was going to be governed, returning to Oz as radiant and light on his feet as if he had just won the big game of the season.

  
  


“You shouldn’t leave things unfinished.” His look was oddly intense as he reached down, gently touching Ozs cheek with his thumb before cupping his face between his two massive hands.

  
  


Oz opened his mouth to say something, interrupted by Scott leaning down and kissing him.

  
  


It was eager and needy and very high energy, too sharp claws gripping at his shoulders and too sharp teeth nipping at his lip. Oz froze up, Scott instantly sensing the change and pulling back.

  
  


Oz looked up, Scotts brow crossed and eyes filled to the brim with concern.

  
  


It was complete impulse when Oz grabbed the straps of Scotts armour and pulled him back in.

  
  


He could feel the grin on Scotts lips, his effort redoubled at what was clearly an invitation. Like everything he did there was a competitive edge, every little action Oz took he had to do back twice as good.

  
  


The doubt that had been lingering at the edge of Ozs thoughts took its moment to strike as they parted. There was a moment, long and dragging, where he scrunched his eyes shut for fear they had just done something awful to their friendship. Timidly he opened his eyes, still gripping so tight to the leather armour straps that they creaked.

  
  


Relief washed over him when he saw not even an ounce of doubt, Scott had been completely sure. The grin he had been wearing softened into something tender, laughter rolling out of him as he picked up Oz and spun him about again.

  
  


Oz was a little glad when Scott finally put him down, his brilliant blue eyes shining as bright as his helmet in the candlelight of the palace. He wasnt wholly sure if the spinning was the lack of air, dizziness from Scott spinning him about, the kiss, or all of the above.

  
  


“I'm guessing that wasn’t just a sudden round of tongue exercise?” Oz asked after taking a much needed breath.

  
  


“No, it wasn’t.” He leaned in for another kiss and hesitated, vibrating with pent up energy. “Can I kiss you again now?”

  
  


“Please do.” And Scott did, Oz leaning into him in part because he wanted to and in part because all of the spinning had completely thrown his balance and he was very much in danger of falling over. They would likely have not parted for some time if there was not an appreciative whistle from the glowing hole between worlds Damien was poking his head through.

  
  


Scott dropped him like he was silver, Oz scrambling to look innocent. Damien gave them both a smug look, one of raised eyebrows and knowing smiles that strongly suggested he had been there for long enough to see everything. Rather timidly Oz reached out to grab Scotts hand and found his hand trying the same.

  
  


“'Sup assholes, I found a knife that can stab reality.” Damien twirled about a rather ornate looking dagger, gem encrusted with an edge that shimmered like it had been sharpened on the first rays of dawn. That knife had been tied to the Princes belt about five minutes ago.

  
  


Scott entwined their fingers, shuffling a little closer until they were almost touching shoulder to chest. It would have been shoulder to shoulder if not for the fact that Scott towered over Oz.

  
  


Damien seemed unusually pleased with himself. Diplomatic relations between the Interdimensional Kingdom and the 8th Sphere of Hell had been ended rather pointedly. Pointedly right into the Princes kidneys about seventeen times before being dropped in a shallow grave.

  
  


“We should get back, we've been here for most of lunch break.” Oz let Scott pull him in closer, relaxing against his chest as massive arms wrapped around him and held him perhaps a little too tightly. Scott had always been physically affectionate with his friends, it had never occurred to Oz just how much more so he would be if that ever changed.

  
  


“I was supposed to be at practice before lunch ended.” Scotts tail dipped low and his lower lip jutted out as he rested his chin against the top of Ozs head. If he was late again he was going to get the newspaper to the nose.

  
  


“Nah, you're fine.” Damien sawed at the edge of the portal, its edges bleeding out into some hungry border reality filled with ravenous things. “Its been about five minutes on this side. Time gets a bit screwy when you jump between worlds.”

  
  


“Still time to get lunch?” Scott tensed so hard Oz felt it. He knew now well enough from the Wolfpack that they could burst into a run with only a moments notice, dragging him along. There had been too many incidents where he had been taken (or abducted depending on perspective) to see roadkill, or to kill something near a road, or to drag a kill to a road so it could be seen. The Pack had a very narrow band of hobbies, a good portion of them bloody.

  
  


“I think so. Its fishsticks today.” He wriggled free before Scott could take off, standing at his side ready to not be dragged along.

  
  


Scotts tail was wagging with pent up energy, and brushing again Ozs with each pass. Both were such tiny actions that each made Oz tingle inside.

  
  


Oz still had not unshapeshifted the tail, though he had been debating back and forth about it for some time. He figured after so long it might be worth keeping it, especially how it was an open invitation to werewolf stuff and Scott really seemed to like it. Liam had already called him a furry and tried to have his fun at his expense, at least until someone, likely Vera, posted a copy of the design sheet for his vampire bat fursona right into the group chat. That had shut him up like a birch stake to the mouth hole.

  
  


“I love fishsticks.”

  
  


“I know.”

  
  


It would have been a perfect moment if not for Damien making a gagging noise at them.

  
  


“You two are unbearable.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has gone through about four rewrites and a few edits, and there might be some issues with the tense in there that slipped through editing. If there's any mistakes please point them out so I can fix them.


	4. Theatre

  


 

  
  


  
  


Liam was about to not be in the best of moods with Oz and the Wolfpack, and Oz was about to be bleeding all over a freshly mopped floor. The custodian was not going to be very much pleased about that.

  
  


The Wolfpack had discovered that Ozs shapeshifting had some interesting, slightly less than legal applications. They could be very persuasive, especially when refusing their terrible ideas got you seriously maimed.

 

 

Oz for the most part went along with their terrible ideas.

  
  


In his own defence he had only done most of the breaking and entering for them. The real criminal element was entirely their own.

 

 

“You!” They flooded around him, bouncing on their heels as if ready to spring into action.

  


“Me?” Oz was already regretting helping them, and he hadn't even agreed to it yet.

  


“We need you.” There was a sack slung over the alphas shoulder, and whatever was inside made Ozs eyes hurt just looking in its general direction. All of them were wearing a vicious look of glee that meant someone was going to get pranked and/or hospitalised.

  


Oz had just come from theatre rehearsals, still dressed in pantaloons and a feathered hat, barely having time to change his clothes while a whole pack of werewolves paced impatiently.

  


He had almost finished closing the door when they grabbed him, dragging him like a wayward pup to their objective. They deposited him right in front of the lock and looked on expectantly.

  


The lock wasn't difficult to open, and he could guess exactly who owned it from the scent of niche cologne and absurdly obscure band stickers.

  


His fingers melted into the gap, filling the space and wiggling into all the tumblers until it spun open. When he had shown that trick to Polly she had cursed his lack of heterosexuality and suggested that little trick could turn a women to putty in ten seconds flat. Damien had then suggested Scott might be into 'a bit of ass blasting with his head' and made a rather complex finger motion as if demonstrating, prompting Oz to flee the entire conversation and scour it from his memory.

  


With the lock broken they filled Liams locker with holy items. Not a small number of holy items either, they had packed it to bursting capacity and then added a few more for the sake of it. They were still shoving in handfuls of Stars of David, scrapings from the alter of Quetzalcoatl, rubble from the Delphian Temple of Apollo, and pages from the Book of Mormon only moments before he turned the corner. The Wolfpack had not acquired an actual Book of Mormon, instead they had managed to order the paperback of the musical and couldn’t tell the difference.

  


Oz was about to return to his own locker to finish getting his books for the next class when he was pleasantly surprised by a fast moving blur of fur and pent up energy. He had almost considered warning Liam, deciding that it was not worth being flayed by werewolves.

  


The aura of faith emanating from the trap had been so thick and heavy it had managed to exorcise one of Pollys arms away for almost half an hour just from her passing it by. She had waved the now empty sleeve of her jacket experimentally before shrugging it all off, deciding quickly that her lack of an arm was now a problem for her future self. That was typically her solution to everything.

  


That was the first part of how it had happened.

  


* * *

 

  


Scott had been fighting a dilemma for days. He craved touch from Oz. Sometimes a quick brush of their hands or a peck on the cheek would be all he needed. Longer partings needed more, and Scott defined long partings as any amount of time where he became aware that they were apart.

  


Oz had gotten a little too comfortable with how spontaneous Scott could be. It was not uncommon for him to be spun around mid-conversation, arms wrapped around him as they locked lips, spun back into position a moment later to pick up the conversation like he had never been interrupted by a lovesick werewolf. This had happened more than a fair few times when they passed each other between classes.

  


Scott been deeply contemplating with how best to mark Oz as his, with Ozs permission of course. He had been toying with the idea of a collar, and gone to the only person he had seen wearing a collar for advice.

  


Valerie had laughed herself hoarse trying to explain to Scott that in certain kinky subcultures collaring someone was something like an engagement proposal, or at the very minimum a mark that they had someone in their lives to do interesting things with rope and leather with. It was certainly romantic, but perhaps a few years premature.

  


As she had put it; rather than 'to have and to hold, till death do you part' it was a little more 'to spank and to scowl, till autoerotic asphyxiation accident do you part.' He hadn't understood some of the words, but a quick internet search had both enlightened him and gotten him on several government watchlists.

  


She had instead offered him a badass fake tattoo set. Scott had left her supply closet with 'Oz' written on his right bicep surrounded by a giant heart and a considerable amount of fire. Oz later thought it was sweet.

  


Scott was still no closer to figuring out how best to mark Oz as his.

  


It was only some time later that it occurred to him that Valerie was wearing a collar herself. He had been walking between classes when realisation had jolted through him, tripping over his own feet gracelessly.

  


Miranda suggested that Scott try instead the old timey way of doing it, which was to give them a firm slap on the rear every time they passed to show interest and mark them out as off the market. Scott was fairly certain that had fallen out of fashion decades ago and was now very much on the 'inappropriate contact and a stern talking to from the HR department' side of history, but was willing to give it a tentative, single try.

  


He had greatly misjudged how strong he was supposed to do it and left Oz with a palmprint on his rear so clear the Coven could have read Scotts fortunes and futures from it. Even through jeans it had turned a vivid shade of bruised. If they had have read his future they could have warned him that Valerie was now hunting him down intending to give him an earful about the proper way to do it and how to go about the aftercare.

  


“Lovebites?” Damien suggested, stuffing a handful of frys into his mouth.

  


“Lovebites?” Scott tilted his head, a curious frown on his face.

  


“Love bites. You bite them and suck a little, and it makes a mark. Nothing says 'back off fuckos this ones mine and i'm their one' like leaving your dental records on them.”

  


“Oh.” Scott was instantly enthralled with the idea, the perfect combination of two of his favourite things after sports; love and biting.

  


He had instantly launched himself, from sitting to sprinting, and was gone before Damien could even open his mouth.

  


Damien had been left with Scotts lunch and the realisation that Oz and Scott, together or separately, would not stop running away from him in the middle of a conversation. He rather spitefully ate Scotts burger, knowing he would be back for it later.

  


Scott had immediately tracked down Oz to try it out, catching him only a few minutes after theatre practice.

  


Scott found Oz quickly retreating from the Wolfpack, glancing back as if waiting for something awful to happen. Scott managed to explain himself, mostly, in a single breath, waiting with a wagging tail expectantly for an answer.

  


Oz had presented his neck so fast even Liam would have been impressed. His own vampiric mesmerism powers were not nearly so fast nor so effective; he had to gently whisper suggestions through the crack in a virgins window until they invited him in. He would have asked Scott just how he had done it if he wasn’t opening his very much booby trapped locker at that exact moment.

  


He left little barely touching kisses along the line of Oz neck, getting a contented sound back. When Oz felt teeth his breath had hitched and his heart had thundered, even as Scotts teeth clamped down and sucked until he left a bright mark.

  


At that moment Liam had been less than pleased when he had opened the door only to be flooded with three thousand years worth of religious iconography that all very much burned. The last straw had been the statue of Buddha that had rolled out and broken his foot.

  


The werebear custodian was going to be sweeping up stray crucifixes for weeks to come.

  


With a shout he had slammed the door to his locker shut with such force it made the walls tremble.

  


Scotts response to sudden loud noises was always to startle, jaw clamping down hard.

  


Oz had yelped, Scott releasing instantly as his concern shifted from the vampire that was smouldering at the seams to the wound Oz has suffered.

  


He wasn’t bleeding exactly, but black vapour did pour out between his fingers and spilled out onto the floor staining it an oily off colour. He clutched at the wound, making an odd burbling noise. Scott tried to do something, not knowing what to do he ended up just flailing ineffectually for someone to help. The usual level of help to be expected arrived, exactly none, discounting the one person who was livestreaming it to Damian.

  


Oz tilted worryingly as the floor and the walls swapped places, Scott grabbing him as he staggered over sideways still clutching at his neck with one hand and gripping Scotts jacket with the other.

  


Scott lowered him gently to the ground, propping him vaguely upright against his locker.

  


After a moment the circle shaped wound closed over, only a slightly grey mark left behind that would take a few weeks to fade.

  


Scott had immediately picked Oz up and carried him straight towards food and water.

  


Oz hadn’t thought anything more of it beyond assuring Scott that he had done absolutely no harm to him. The entirety of the Wolfpack felt a faint shiver run through them like something had changed.

  


It was only much later that Oz realised something wasn’t quite right.

  


* * *

 

  


Several days passed without incident, or at least any incident related to the bite.

  


They had been walking to their night class together, holding hands, taking the long route around the outside of the building when he had felt it. It was like a magnetic pull on his heart, like looking upon a work of art so breathtaking it struck the viewer into silence. It called to him, deep down it made something wild and exhilarating scratch at the edges of his thoughts.

  


The moon had never been so perfect.

  


“Love?” Scott had watched that look of dawning awe and wonder, seeing the sharpness of his tooth as he gaped in wonderment and the prickle of fur forming from his shadowy skin. Oz had finally snapped free of it when he felt the claws at his fingertips grow sharp enough that they dug into his own palms, managing to pull back from the involuntary shapeshift.

  


“Moon?” He had looked to Scott, and without words Scott had just understood that he now felt it too. Scott had taken him by the hand, a gentle kiss to the lip for reassurance, and then showed him how to let himself give in to the change.

  


They had gone running into the forest together as things of fur, claws and teeth, and entirely skipped their last class. They had woken up entangled together at dawn, naked and covered in blood and bruises, not entirely recalling the events of the night.

  


He had crawled back to civilisation in time for his friends to find him. Polly and Vera had a wonderful time testing him with silver and wolfsbane, and crossing running water despite Oz being certain that was a vampire trait. It took quite a bit of prodding but eventually they figured out that he wasn't quite a werewolf. The beast blood had a hard time actually finding anything tangible to take root in, but there was definitely a drop of the curse lingering somewhere in him that could be allowed out if he so desired.

  


The cravings for red meat were strong, shiny things were very hard to resist and that very much included the moon, and he had stopped himself chasing after small animals more than once. He had had a wonderful date with Scott eating raw steaks straight from the packet under the pale light of a new moon, playing with a shiny ball of foil and disturbing the local wildlife.

  


He had previously thought he understood Scott and how easily distracted he was, it was only now he understood that he hadn’t the faintest idea. Oz would lose track of what he was doing because somebody had opened food somewhere within a thousand paces and hew could smell it like it was right under his nose. Vera had more than once told him off for not listening the exact same way she did to Scott.

  


Birds would tweet halfway across campus and he would hear them and that drive to chase after them would completely consume his thoughts for a split second. Deodorant, hair spray, soap, sweat, blood, all were so strong and distinct he couldn’t hope to even concentrate with such a potent cocktail of scents hammering at his senses.

  


Scott had just shrugged when Oz had tried to put it into words. That was just how he had always experienced the world, everything had to be seen and smelt and felt and tasted and it had to happen now. Oz had wanted to know how he managed to fight it. The answer was that he didn’t, he let it pull his attention whatever way it wanted.

  


Valerie had gently tried to persuade Oz to try the cure. She had a single silver lipped bottle of something squeezed from belladonna berries, monkshood flowers and the heart of a pure maiden, all priced to be attractive and affordable. Oz had almost considered it, at least until he remembered the look of delight Scott had when he realised that Oz now had that same unshakeable desire to chase after thrown balls. That had been a fun afternoon for them both, and a great one for Polly who was doing the throwing.

  


Scott had been so conflicted about it initially; guilty that it had happened and thrilled that he could now show Oz all of the great things being a werewolf entailed. They were going to chase cars, and howl at the moon, and eat the teenagers at summer camp that ignored the legend of the hungry beasts that hunted in the depths of the dark woods. It was going to be great.

  


Oz shouldn’t have been surprised when Scott had sheepishly offered him that same silver lipped bottle, the second refusal to take the cure making Scotts lip quiver as he was overwhelmed by feelings.

  


The tail was now very likely permanent. He could will it away with some difficulty, but the moment he stopped paying attention it would spring back into existence with a very loud 'pop' that Scott had come to recognise. Scott always bowed his head and tried to look sorry whenever he heard it, but he could not keep the slightly proud smirk off his face completely.

  


It seemed there was now one more for the Wolfpack.

  


  


  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, but I'm happy enough with it for now. This was originally the first half of the last chapter, but I ended up splitting it up into two. Couldn't decide the order they should go, so the longer half went first. The rest is coming soon.
> 
> The reason this took so long is another fic stole my attention. I figured since each chapter is almost standalone and there was no overarching story left unresolved then it was fine to wait. This has been sitting needing edits and rewrites for a while, too long I think. Finally took a break to get this ready, but you might notice the tone is a bit odd compared to the other chapters. Its been so long, and i've been writing in a different style so much, that its hard to shift back to the more informal style.


	5. Bathroom

 

 

 

 

Oz stirred awake, feeling unbearably warm. It had been a few strands of bright dawn light peaking through the windows that had woken him, his head a little heavier then it should have been like he had been drinking that terrible monkshood moonshine the football team had been brewing somewhere in the school dungeons.

  
  


He realised first that he was not in his bedroom, second that Scott was curled around him, third that the bed was massive and filled with Wolfpack.

  
  


It took a short while to remember exactly what had happened, his short and long term memory scoured and blasted rather thoroughly.

  
  


Once again it had been Damiens fault, with generous contributions from Polly. They had all been skipping class in the school bathroom. Somehow they had convinced the entire class to skip out with them, if anybody asked they most definitely had all received an email telling them it was cancelled.

  
  


Oz had not been aware that there was a blackmarket for energy drinks, or that what they had given him was so densely caffeinated that it warped local spacetime ever so slightly. It was also no surprise that somehow Valerie was responsible for getting it across the border, he suspected using a certain dark place below the world as a smuggling route.

  
  


He had chugged a whole can without noticing it tasted like blueberries, boldness, and the death of braincells. He had then promptly lost sensation in his extremities, at least before the world went dark and he hit the floor of the school bathroom hard.

  
  


Scott had responded to the threat by sending out a distress howl. The Wolfpack had responded in force, flooding into the school bathroom in a swarm of teeth and claws ready to fight whatever had hurt one of their own. They proceeded to completely destroyed every can of energy drink they could get their teeth into, managing to swallow a good portion of it in the process. There was then a swarm of hyped up moon beasts moving like lightning, destroying everything in their path before they remembered one of their own was hurt and had Oz back to their den so they could protect him while he slept off the worst of it.

  
  


If nothing else Oz was at least glad they had his back, for better and for worse. The positives were great; the last person to even say anything mean to him had been found tied to several of the schools flagpoles. The biggest negative was that he kept finding dead squirrels and jars of protein powder in his locker, left as gifts to their newest pack runt. They thought he was too scrawny and clearly needed help hunting.

 

This was not how he had expected to get into Scotts bed. He wasn’t certain whether he should be complaining about it either. He had imagined it would be a bit more candlelit and romantic, and now that he thought about it properly they had most definitely not done the part he was very much looking forward to. The part with the sweating, and heaving, and slapping meat. The good part.

  
  


He tried to move and discovered that his legs were pinned under at least two other people. No amount of wiggling seemed to be able to free himself, and with a frustrated sigh he resigned himself to being stuck there until they all woke up. He knew they at least had practice fairly early, so it could only be a few hours at most of staring at the ceiling. He had always wondered if the Wolfpack ever took off their football armour, now he knew that at least some of them even slept in it.

  
  


Scott must have been woken by the movements, uncurling from his side with a soft noise and a stretch, resting his head right on his chest with eyes bright and shining. Apparently he was a morning person.

  
  


There was a myriad of blankets pooled around him, some old and threadbare, some seemed to have been knitted recently. He shimmied out of a few of them until he was pressed fur to shadow against Oz.

  
  


“Hello.” There was a sound from somewhere under the mass that was likely his tail doing whatever it felt like.

  
  


“Hi.” Oz realised that he was in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts that were most certainly not his own. They were a handful of sizes too big and decorated with a bone pattern. Scott was in the matching pair from the set, his dotted with fire hydrants.

  
  


“Do you want some breakfast?”

  
  


“Sure. What are we having?”

  
  


“Steak. I can smell gasoline so someone’s cooking right now.” Scott licked his upper lip, leaving his tongue sticking out for a moment before remembering it was supposed to stay inside his mouth. Except during car rides. And kissing. And kissing during car rides.

  
  


“That sounds...” Oz took a breath and steeled his nerves, hearing what he was certain was a live cow in distress from elsewhere in the house “...that sounds great.”

  
  


“Ooh. I was supposed to ask you something.” Scotts tail had escaped its confines and was now hitting one of his brothers in the face, somehow not waking them up.

  
  


“What?” Oz felt his chest go 'thump' so hard he was surprised it wasn’t heard. He had been waiting for this.

  
  


“It was super important.”

  
  


“Did you forget?”

  
  


“I remembered to remember to ask you it.”

  
  


“Well?”

  
  


“I remember. I was supposed to ask you how you have your steak, rare or still alive?”

  
  


“Rare.” Oz deflated.

  
  


The sounds of distressed cow went abruptly, finally, silent. It sent a brief chill through Oz.

  
  


“Oh, and what are we wearing for prom?”

  
  


“What?” Oz felt the world drop out below him, time crawling to a near halt.

  
  


“I was going to rent a tuxedo, but Damien said that a tuxedo is a monkey suit and i'm not a monkey, so I tried to find a wolf suit but Liam didn’t like me asking where to get a wolf suit from because he's not a furry because of course he's not he doesn’t have any fur and what does that have to do with finding a wolf suit?” Scott took a deep gulp of air, having ran out of breath about half a tangent ago. It made perfect sense in his head. It really did.

  
  


“You didn’t ask me to prom yet.”

  
  


“Yeah I did. Last night, when you said you could see all of those screaming skulls that wanted to eat your liver. You were sweating a lot. I think you should maybe lay off the energy drinks, coach said they're really bad for you. Anyway, you said yes.”

  
  


“You asked me to prom?” Oz had stopped breathing.

  
  


“Yeah.” Scott nodded enthusiastically.

  
  


“And I said yes?” Oz was starting to turn an interesting colour.

  
  


“Yeah.” He nodded again, his spiky chin tickling Oz's chest.

  
  


“Oh.” He finally remembered to breath, mostly because the shadowlings started making panicked, chattering noises toward him. He was still processing.

  
  


There was a sound from downstairs, like a spoon being hit off the side of a metal bowl. Every wolf in the room was instantly upright, eyes wide and noses twitching, Scott included.

  
  


Oz didn’t have time to stop them, he had barely opened his mouth to protest what he knew was coming before Scott grabbing him by the arm and dragged him through the house, racing the rest of his pack for food.

  
  


It was only by digging his heels into the floor did he manage to get Scott to stop right at the kitchen door. Scott only stopped because he could sense the apprehension gripping him, Oz having neither the strength nor weight to have any real impact.

  
  


Scott tilted his head, confused at Ozs insistence that they stop.

  
  


“They're been waiting to meet your properly. I've told them all about you.” Scott had his hand on the door, ready to push it open.

  
  


“I just need a moment.”

  
  


“I get it.” Scott always tried to be understanding even if he didn’t quite understand. He loved meeting new people, but in a different way to Oz. “They'll love you, I promise. How could they not?”

  
  


Scott reached out and pulled him in for a hug, a kiss to his forehead telling him that it was all going to be fine. Oz trusted him.

  
  


Scott took him by the hand, threading their fingers together, and opened the door ready to introduce him to the rest of his family.

  
  


With a little bravery Oz gave his hand one last gentle squeeze for reassurance and then followed him in.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
